Marry Me, He Said
by lovingcaptainswan
Summary: "When I'm beheaded at least I was wedded and when I am buried at least I was married" Princess Emma marries Rumpelstiltskin to save her kingdom from destruction. She's given up on her own happiness, but every so often, in a flash of blue eyes, she thinks that she glimpses it. Lt Duckling/Enchanted Forest AU.
1. Prologue

Emma shifts uncomfortably for perhaps the hundredth time since sun up.

The light in the unfamiliar throne room is blinding in its brightness, assorted colored glass panes doing little to shield the room's visitors from the harshness of the realm's summer sun. Her back aches from the stiff posture that her corset demands. She lowers her eyes to the ground but attempts not even the small shred of comfort of movement, breath barely coming to her, much less any other human emotion. She feels frozen in place, heart pounding, yet numb as she ponders the morbid thought of whether death by dagger or hanging by the neck with the yards of sheets piled atop her new bed would be more agonizing one than the other.

(She is yet to decide.)

(It isn't a luxury she could ever afford herself.)

She finally shifts nearly immovably at _his_ side, longing to crane her neck until it cracks.

The ache in her back has been a long familiarity to her. She is all of twenty, and years gone, she has been required to accompany King and Queen of Mistahaven to their business. The masses of negotiations, meetings with dignitaries and politicians, trial hearings, and simply the hours spent listening to each and every member of their kingdom's complaints (or at least it seems so).

(But this isn't her throne room and she will likely never join them there again.)

(She would give all she had in the world to be there.)

It's no difficult feat to hear the kind but chiding words of her parents whenever a complaint threatens to rise from her thoughts to her lips. Now is no different. _Soon, they will be your responsibility, protection will be your duty._ Truly, she had muttered and moaned for just as long as she had been allowed, disciplined by only sharp looks from first her maid and then her mother and long, quiet talks with her parents of duty, but after a time, she had come to understand. A princess, yes, but inherently selfish, Emma was not. As a child, she thought as a child, mind full of horse rides and games and secret sword lessons with the King...but as she grew into a woman, she put aside childish things – mostly, perhaps - and with that, her parents' words stayed with her.

It was with those words, held close to her heart, that today's fate had been sealed.

He holds her hands as they rise.

He kisses her lips after the words are said.

She feels ill.

 ** _A/n: Welp, there it is. Just a prologue. The first thing I've written in over a year as far as fanfiction goes. I've had a really difficult year and my writing has suffered greatly. Pretty much every part of my life has suffered, but I truly want to be done with all of that. I have a huge plan for this story that will undoubtedly be angsty and painful, but it would be a whole lot easier to keep writing if I got reviews letting me know how you feel about it. Please?_**


	2. Marry Me, He Said

They told her that his name was Baelfire.

Musings of the day that she would be married have been a familiar wandering place for her mind since she was a child. Princesses had little choice but to ponder things so pivotal to the roles they are born to. She still recalls it clearly, the day that she had first considered it. Her mother's maid has run a brush through her blonde hair, matted with weeds and broken daisy chains that she had threaded there with the servant girls. The plump faced woman with the kind smile and wrinkles ever etching her face had muttered amiably about what a handful she would be for a husband if he expected a timid wife. She had quipped to her at that that she would _never_ be married. Joanna had laughed. Little Emma had laughed too.

Another time, she remembers being surrounded by lords and ladies, friends of her parents, and a man she knew as a close advisor of her father's bundling her up and onto his knee and telling her parents - not her - what a pretty little princess she was and how she'll have all the princes after her in no time.

Such casual talk only increased as she grew into early womanhood, other memories of giggling and whispers of daughters of nobles – things of dresses, proposals, marriage beds, and handsome boys – stored away in her mind where the distant memories that never quite left were kept. This had progressed into things like vaguely mortifying talks with her mother about the private lives of husbands and wives. She had always feared that her mother had gone a bit _too_ into detail out of her own nerves, but in a way, it had calmed her to know the elegant, queenly Snow White could be flustered at such things.

When she neared eighteen, men began to come to court her. Honestly she gave few true thought, though she couldn't deny the excitement that the dancing and attention welled in her as handsome men vied for chance to catch her eye. Her mother tried to play along into the excitement, beginning to use phrases such as "finding your True Love" and speaking of grandchildren. It was, of course, all in a teasing jest as her daughter rolled her eyes and told her that she could rule the kingdom quite wonderfully without a husband, but also, perhaps not in jest at all.

One quiet, if not a bit blustery day, the morn of her 19th birthday, a proposal arrived.

They told her that his name was Baelfire.

Months passed with hearing little more than that. Well, other than what most in the kingdom already knew. He was the son of Rumpelstiltkin, king of the realm Tenebris, one of Misthaven's sister kingdoms. He was the son of The Dark One. Dangerous tensions had long lived between their kingdoms, her parents ever attempting to keep peace, but political disagreement and Tenebris' further disagreements with their allies in Arendelle kept their peace tenuous. Such a union would bring an end to the disquiet and fear of war that had concerned the King and Queen for some years. The state of their kingdom had already been weakened by a violent attempt for the throne from Regina, known widely as The Evil Queen, before her capture and banishment. They could afford no such other attack.

That is why not even a moment had passed upon hearing news of Prince Baelfire's proposal – his hope for a union of kingdoms, even with the promise of negotiations with Arendelle – that Emma knew she could not and _would never_ refuse. Their kingdom was wounded – unbroken and yet afraid. The Dark One's kingdom was richer, more powerful, with an army stronger than any surrounding land and magic that outweighed even the greatest of sorcerers of Misthaven. Emma trusted the Dark One about as far as she could throw him, but his son seemed truly sincere and a legal treaty had been proposed.

 _Soon, they will be your responsibility, Emma._

She could not refuse.

The King and Queen had balked. Their distrust of Rumpelstiltskin ran deeper, but through no violent action of his own, but merely by reputation. Still, Emma saw the flickers of hope in their eyes as they read the proposal, first once, and then again.

"Give them a year," They had finally proposed. "When she is twenty, our daughter will decide. Until then, let them exchange letters. You will have your answer after a year."

And they did.

Through the letters, she learned many things of this Baelfire. That his eyes were brown and his hair of curls. His mother died when he was a child and he was left with only his father, who had never remarried. She learned he was only a few years old than her, 24 years to her half 19. Their letters read as stiff, cordial, the first few that they exchanged, but as the months passed, their pens eased in their hands. She told him of her love of riding and sword lessons with her father. He told her that he had secretly longed for adventure and to see new lands as a child and had always hoped to be a sailor before he learned that could never be. Her lips had curved at this, her own thirst for adventure repressed but alive within her. Perhaps, they at least had a _small_ kinship in that. She told him that she used to sneak away at night and explore the castle grounds in the dark, when all looked and felt new and different. He told her that his mother used to call him Bae. She began to truly look forward to his letters, even if marriage had still felt so much more as a duty than a desire. But perhaps. Just perhaps they would come to care for each other in that way. Even early on, she felt infatuation rising within her yet unclaimed heart. She found herself smiling like a fool when new letters arrived, and pondering what his face might look like at night. Would he have a strong jaw? Would his nose be pointed as the Dark One's was rumored to be? Would he be as kind and genuine as his letters seemed? She thought that he would, she truly did.

The ninth month, his letters stopped.

It was first unsettling and then concerning. There was no word for more than a fortnight until finally, an agreement with his kingdom's seal written in shining golden ink appeared in her bedroom, Baelfire's hand signed at the bottom. She recognized it, but her ill at ease remained. Why would he so abruptly cut off their pleasant communication with months yet to decide? Had he decided, in his heart, that this was best and taken the chance at asking her hand? And why with no prior warning in his letters? Had his father become impatient and forced the matter? She shook away the odd feeling that rose first in her neck, tingling a bit down her spine and then spreading back up to settle heavily onto her shoulders. She liked Baelfire – she liked _Bae_. She knew him, she thought, and from the kinship she felt, that could only mean good things, if not love just yet.

Her parents read through the proposal, but the distance between kingdoms was too far for them to venture to quibble over a proposal being just a few, short months early, especially in a courtship that had seemed to be progressing so pleasantly. The kingdom too weak to go without its rulers for such a journey. The decision was hers, they told her, thought her mother's face held a look that was both anxious and encouraging.

With trembling hands, she had signed.

She would leave by carriage in a month.

 **A/n: Thanks for reading, everyone! The next chapter will be considerably less exposition-y and go into real time. But before we start, I will warn you Lemony Snicket style that this is not a happy story. Though occasionally happiness may arrive, alas, it is probably short lived. She will marry Rumpelstiltskin and there will be non graphic depictions of their unfortunate sex life as will be expected of a married Queen. (Belle may show up a bit as well). I will let you know that there will not be rape in any manner of the word, but married life will be angsty and sad for her. But do not dismay! A young, wonderful Lt Killian Jones WILL come into this story, though it will take a chapter or two, and then he will be in quite a lot of it. There will even be some Liam at some point, so bear with me and I hope that you enjoy this as much as I am enjoying writing this horrible thing. xD As always, I am clinging onto every meager scrap of energy and inspiration that I possibly have to write this, so please let me know how you feel about it in a review. I love you all! :)**


	3. Marry Me Instead

Emma refuses to be intimidated by the castle looming in the distance that will soon become her home.

It looks everything that she could have ever imagined the home of The Dark One to look, she thinks, as she peers through the window of her carriage. Large and foreboding. She drinks in the details through calm, green eyes. Six spindly towers reach upwards, like fingers stretching up into the eerily fitting sky of grey. Storm clouds are beginning to form only miles away, and nervous as she may be, even she must admit in a deep, quiet, part of her mind that it is impressive. It is truly the fortress that the whispered gossip by the servants had made it out to be. Walls of a similar grey stone surround it and just beyond, trees grow close to the castle gate – which itself is also vast, like the gaping mouth of a beast, a crocodile with its jaws wide, its teeth the heavy metal bars. It is built for both defense and grandeur, and while ominous in the gloom of early evening, it must be almost beautiful in the sun, the light glistening off of the colored panes of glass that rest in the windows of the largest of the towers. Something else also flits from the largest of towers – black flags. She is told it is a symbol of mourning in some realms and she finds it curious, but tucks the detail away, prepared to deal with only the issue at hand of meeting her betrothed.

Her carriage approaches, and filled with these thoughts, she swallows hard, causing a slight gulping sound in her throat. Noticing the concern in her hand maiden, Ruby's, eyes, she quickly forces a smile. It's not that she doesn't wish this. Truthfully, up until the castle came into sight, her heart had been a flutter of nerves and doubts and excitement all bundled into an odd pit in her belly. She had never imagined that she would marry a man that she had never met – not with parents such as hers – so she feels she is allowed her anxieties. Furthermore, she reminds herself that not only a powerful ruler lives here, but the man that she had grown to care for as well. Cautious as she may be of the king, Rumpelstiltsin, not once since perhaps a few letters into their courtship had she suspected Baelfire of deceit or foul play. Emma tips her chin up a bit in silent defiance. All will be fine.

Ruby returns her smile, reassuring, and reaches for her hand, squeezing. It is a gesture well received from the servant that she had always considered a friend. She is glad that the young woman is accompanying her on her journey to a new life.

"I'm sure he will be handsome," she teases, a clear attempt to lighten the mood, also well received.

Emma instead blushes, nerves immediately easing. "He…he seems kind. And clever," she adds, a soft smirk crossing her features and then disappearing into the feigned poise of a princess. "That is my primary desire for my betrothed. Looks, next."

Ruby eyes her, amusingly unconvinced that her Princess has supposedly not given his looks a thought and Emma pretends not to notice her maid's gaze.

"Hmm," is all Ruby says.

Gods, but she is so grateful for her friend, who must be unnerved just as easily by the appearance of their new home, and yet she shows so little of it on her face and in her speech. She had always had this way about her when Emma needed it most, and for that reason, the princess knew her company would be well kept.

And so, they sit in companionable silence for the remainder of the carriage ride.

They are met at the gates. First, by the Tenebri guards on horseback, whose presence causes the gates to creak and then heave open, allowing the royal carriage entrance to the castle grounds. They must follow the men and their steeds for a mile's time when a second welcome party of Tenebri military greets them. The carriage slows to a gentle stop in front of a small group of well-dressed officers – some she recognizes as Navy – Tenebris borders the sea, of course – and others as high ranking of foot soldiers. A Naval officer with brown curls and broad shoulders approaches the carriage driver and speaks with him briefly. She finds herself studying the man. He's tall and has a certain stoicism about him that stands out as one of his most prominent features. They all are. She scans them, the men separated into two, uniform groups, split by soldiers and by Navy. This is clearly not a necessity, she does not even think that it is a show of power, but merely as it appears – a nicety from a kingdom that is so defined by its might.

The men stand tall and still as stones, staring straight ahead. They are awaiting orders from the Navy officer, she assumes, who appears to be in charge of the party. She is no stranger to neither guards nor military, but this isn't Misthaven, nor are they wearing the traditional garb of Misthaven's soldiers, though the fine cloth and shining buttons that line their coats are familiar. She takes it in with mild fascination, casually gazing out at them, until one man in particular catches her eye. He seems younger than the others, though just as dedicated. His dress is of the Navy, his hair dark and his features handsome, with eyes some of the bluest that she has seen. It shocks her when only his eyes flit unconsciously to her and they meet, for the smallest of moments. She does not distract him further with a smile. Just then, the first officer steps away from the carriage, barks an order to the men – the leader of the foot soldiers repeating the order – and then they are marching on either side of the carriage as it rolls on towards her new home.

The inside of the castle is quite fortunately nothing like the menacing image the outer walls create for itself. It is utterly grand. While she has wanted for nothing all of her life, the lavish dress of the palace furnishings is almost uncomfortably so.

 _Hush, Emma._ She thinks the rebuke. _First, it's too dark, now it's too rich?_ The judgement in her own mind shames her enough for her to take a deep breath and decide to truly clear her mind of all doubts and prejudice until she gets to know it – and her new husband. Still, there is almost a sense of grief, of mourning in the castle, not one of the servants' faces anything short of a concealed sadness. She doesn't like it, and she can tell by the tension in her handmaiden that Ruby does not like the tangible mood of the palace any more than she does.

And then she is being announced.

"Princess Emma – daughter of Snow White and David of Misthaven and future bride of the kingdom of Tenebris!"

Emma feels as if all breath is not only gone from her chest, but from the realm, choking her. She feels that she is unable to make a sound, to even gasp. TQuickly, she finds herself, years of training from her parents and the countless hours at court coming back to her, even now.

"I-" she bows her head slightly. "My King. I am afraid I have misheard."

The king is a small, weasel of a man, the shameful thought entirely unregretted in her state of shock. Still, what he lacks in height and stature, he makes up in a general intimidating presence and an unearthly, golden shimmer to his skin. She would be more concerned by his dark appearance if she wasn't so terribly alarmed by the words that had just left his mouth.

"I wish it were so," he says, and his voice is higher pitched than she imagined, but filled with a deep sadness that is so sincere, it could be nothing but truth.

Something clenches in her chest, threatening to choke her again. She feels as if she isn't even there, as if the words are a dream. Baelfire can't be-

"I have to admit, I was surprised that you had decided to join us here, after I sent news of my son's-" He chokes almost imperceptibly. "my son's death."

"I had not received such news." She spoke swiftly and firmly, her mind still denying the truth.

The king might feign surprise, though in her state, Emma does not catch it. No, she cannot quite catch anything that isn't thrust into her face, much like the death of her betrothed has been at this very moment. Dead. A horse riding accident. The man that spoke of his mother, his love of the sea. The man that had told her secrets and pickpocketing the maids of sweets. The man that promised to take her riding in the gardens everyday if it would please her. These might sound like silly pledges of childish infatuation, but she had clung to his words and childlike excitement about him. Now, he was dead. Her thoughts briefly go to the months that she had gone without letters before the agreement arrived.

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible, Dearie."

The familiarity in which he speaks with her offends, but she dares not show it.

"The letter was sent as soon as I had properly mourned my son." He snaps his fingers and Emma is startled back into reality by the scroll that suddenly appears into his hand. Of course, this is the magic that he was so known for across the realms. He clears his throat and nods, as if this is a copy of the notice sent months ago. "It was a generous offer, if I do say so myself," the slight smile to his mouth sickens her. "We will keep our offer of peace, even after this terrible even, if by tradition you choose to wed your intended's next of kin. A tradition again noted in the proposal of marriage, Dearie." His face again draws somber. "The agreement first signed by my son, only days before…"

Exactly what he is saying hits her like a heavy weight on her chest. The treaty. The proposal she had signed. The marriage agreement in Baelfire's hand.

Emma feels like she will faint. She wants to say so many things. She wants to decline the despicable offer in so many colorful words. She wants to demand answers of why the letter had not arrived when so many, many letters from Baelfire had arrived unharmed. His skill of magic and rumors of _deceit could never_ have had anything to do with that. Her insides are seething and squirming as she seeks to change her look of fear to one of poise. She fails. There is no argument to be had. She had signed a treaty and now the awful truth remains.

If she wants to avoid war between Tenebris and Misthaven, she must marry The Dark One.

 _ **A/n: A tiny taste of the Jones brothers in this one! I mean, the tiniest of tiny tastes, but there will be a little more Killian in the next chapter. Thank you for being patient and I promise that eventually, there will be CS smut. ;) Also, for anyone raising eyebrows, please note that this is very AU and I'm not going off of any present canon for this story other than the characters and very basics of backstory. It's based off of OUAT and inspired by a song that I love. I made up the description of Rumple's castle and kingdom and yes, the Jones' are in his Navy. Please let me know what you think and review! Reviews make for inspiration and faster updates. :)**_


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